


tale as old as time

by maryabolkonskaya



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Cheating, F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Memories, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, eliza is sweet and smol and old i love her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:33:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryabolkonskaya/pseuds/maryabolkonskaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eliza sighed, eyes slipping shut - even the soft November sunlight streaming in through her curtains irritated her eyes in the slightest way - and conjuring up a picture of Alexander.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tale as old as time

Alexander had been dead for fifty years. Ever since that fateful night in Weekhawken, Eliza Hamilton had had to support her family, handle Alexander's debts, all while preserving her husband's sketchy legacy. It was a hassle, and most days she wanted to simply lay down and never get back up. But, she pressed through the mess with the help of her children (and Angelica while she was alive). Still, in the end, she couldn't help but wonder if there was anything more her Alexander would've done.

"You've done enough, Eliza." One of her in-home nurses reassured her from beside her bed, holding her hands. "You'll see him again, soon."

"I miss him so, you know. It has been so long. I want to see Hamilton." Eliza said quietly.

Her nurse gave her a funny look, but smiled. "Drink your tea," she reminded Eliza before unlinking their hands and leaving the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Eliza sighed, eyes slipping shut - even the soft November sunlight streaming in through her curtains irritated her eyes in the slightest way - and conjuring up a picture of Alexander.

 

He was young, chocolate brown hair secured behind him in a clean, efficient ponytail. He had the hints of stubble around his mouth, a smile brighter and more infectious than the plague that had haunted their home for years, and dark eyes - bright in a way - that appeared to challenge even the most intellectual minds - including her sister's, evidently.

Eliza cautiously walked up behind Angelica where they were both looking at the young man and smiled. "He's quite a charmer, isn't he?" Eliza teased.

Angelica would deny it for _years_ , but she did nod to what Eliza was saying. "I would say so, yes. Do you fancy him, Eliza?"

She blushed. " _Oh_ , I don't know. In terms of looks, obviously, but intellectually? That's more up your alley, Angie." Eliza sighed as the man turned away yet another young woman, even a few men presented themselves to him.

"I suppose you're right." Angelica breathed. A pause, and then she pulled away, leaving Eliza behind as she sashayed her way towards the man. Another man - curly hair, purple coat - stopped Angelica on her way to the man, and she simply introduced herself and walked on. The man they had been eyeing up smiled at Angelica as she approached him, kissing the backs of her outstretched fingers, lingering just a _second_ too long - Eliza could see it in the way Angelica's shoulders tensed.

They talked quietly for a few moments, refusing drinks and appetizers in favor of their conversation. Angelica evidently said something innapropriate, as the man tensed up, his hands moving from in front of him and going to fiddle with the tails of his coat. He smiled at Angelica and shook his head softly, eyebrows furrowing as he directed the conversation away from the touchy subject. His hands slowly moved away from his coats and back to in front of his stomach, seemingly always having one hand outstretched in front of him, grasping for something just out of reach.

Eventually, Angelica made a gesturing motion behind her with one of her hands, and the man smiled, taking the other hand Angelica had offered him. She led him towards - _Eliza?_ \- and untangled their hands, smiling at her sister.

"Elizabeth Schuyler." She rambled, nearly forgetting her own name in the presence of this stranger. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Eliza smiled.

The man frowned, addressing Angelica. "Schuyler?" His eyebrows raised.

"My younger sister." Angelica said proudly. "I believe our youngest, Peggy, is off canoodling with that John Laurens fellow."

Angelica didn't notice, but the man's eyes brightened impossibly more at the mention of Laurens. " _Yes_! I know him. We work on Washington's staff." He smiled.

"Thank you for all your service, we're all so thankf-" Eliza started, but was cut off by the man's hands waving around. She fixed him with a pointed glare and he met her gaze, flushing scarlet.

"If it takes fighting a war for us to meet, it will have been worth it." He finished with another one of his breathtaking smiles.

Eliza blushed, not noticing Angelica's uncomfortable shuffling beside the two lovebirds. "I'm sorry, I didn't seem to catch your name?"

"Alexander Hamilton." He said quietly, holding a hand out towards Eliza. "Care to dance?"

"I-I would love to." Eliza stammered, breathless as she was led out to the dance floor by Alexander.

"I'll leave you to it." Angelica whispered to herself, watching the couple captivate the audience, Eliza's teal skirts flowing around her wonderfully. She suddenly felt out-of-place in her simple red gown, wishing she had chosen something else. The man in purple approached her again - Lafayette, she learned, who was a friend of Alexander's - and they talked for a bit, but nothing happened that evening as satisfying as the _click_ when she met Alexander.

 

Eliza blinked, remembering where she was. Her bedroom, painting of the full family above her dresser, a vase of flowers on her bedside table. She could hear the nurse downstairs, humming a soft tune as a spoon clinked against a pan. She figured she may as well indulge in another memory.

 

Eyes closing again, she took herself to the night she told Angelica she wanted to marry Alexander. They were sitting on their beds, ends facing each other, cross legged in their shifts (Eliza, a light blue, and Angelica, a pink) and slippers.

"You don't think you're rushing into this, do you?" Angelica asked. "I have many a friend who rushed into marriages - _carelessly_ , like children - and find themselves trapped in a relationship they can't get out of." She scrubbed a hand over her face.

Eliza bristled, sitting up straighter. "Are you saying you know what I want better than I do?" She crossed her arms defensively.

Angelica sighed. "You always do this." She whined.

"Do what?" Eliza asked, suddenly remembering there was a letter from Alexander waiting to be read on her bedside table. She leaned back to pick it up and carefully seperated the fold of the envelope from the body.

"You're so _infatuated_ with this Alexander character, you can't even see his flaws." Angelica said, annoyance in her tone.

"What flaws?" Eliza said curiously, smiling at the letter.

"He's _arrogant_ , loud, constantly getting himself into trouble - _he has no family, Eliza! He's poor_!" Angelica whisper-shouted to her sister.

Eliza looked up and blinked once before shaking her head. "No, _I_ know what this is about." She said smugly. " _You_ like Alexander."

Angelica gasped and sat up, astonished as the words sank in. " _Elizabeth Schuyler_! Are you accusing me of _stealing away_ the man you love?"

Eliza made a _mm-hmm_ noise of approval before continuing her letter reading. "I saw you at the ball when you met him. The way you carried on a conversation so effortlessly, he's the only person we know who can match your wits, Angie."

"I would _never_ \- I would do _anything_ for you, Eliza, I would never stoop as low to steal away your partner." Angelica said angrily. "You know what? I'm done talking to you. _Goodnight_." Angelica said as she scooted backwards on her bed, slipping under the covers and grabbing her small, stuffed toy - an elephant named Timothy - before attempting to fall asleep.

Eliza said nothing, simply finishing the letter and adding it to the stack of ones he'd sent in the past week. It was a hefty stack, balanced neatly to avoid it from spilling on her desk. She smiled, scooting and slipping under her own covers and grabbing Maria - a little cat plush - before falling asleep - sleep haunted by bright, brown eyes, and a smile so sharp and tangy it could slice a sheet of paper clean.

 

"Mrs. Hamilton!" The nurse called, the sound of shoes slapping up the stairs snapping Eliza out of her dream. The door to her room, heavy and wooden, crashed open, shaking the portriat of John Laurens violently.

"What?" Eliza said, annoyed at the interruption. She was enjoying herself.

"You didn't respond to my calls up the stairs." The nurse said, breathless. "I thought something happened."

"Clearly nothing did." Eliza snapped. They stared each other down before the nurse sighed and closed the door, shoes slapping down the stairs. The portrait of Laurens was crooked, now, and she longed to fix it. An itch settled itself in her mind. She would ask someone when they came up to feed her later, if she remembered.

 

Where was she? _Yes_ \- the day Alexander asked for her father's blessing. Her father was sat on a wooden chair in the middle of their living room, Alexander sitting on the couch in front of him - the couch nearly swallowing Alexander with how large it was. He was tapping his foot, his fingers, nodding his head - anything to release the tension in his body from waiting for an answer from her father.

Where were the Schuyler sisters? Up the staircase, peeking down occasionally to see what was happening. They didn't want their father to see them, but Eliza would sometimes give Alexander small waves of encouragement, little smiles and thumbs-ups, too.

The chair creaked and all three girls scrambled to see what was happening. Eliza was in the front, Peggy scooting to be between her Angelica because she was the shortest. Philip Schuyler was now standing, tall and commanding, and holding his hand outstretched to Alexander's flustered face. He stood clumsily, shaking the hand and smiling broadly - that signature, Alexander smile. Philip whispered something, but none of the girls could decipher what he had said.

Eliza accidentally squealed, revealing their position, and the other two girls ran away before they could get in trouble. Philip saw Eliza and smiled, gesturing down the stairs. She slowly walked down them, already preparing an apology to her father. "Dad, I'm s-" She started, eyes flicking across the floor.

"Oh, Eliza, it's fine." Philip soothed. "I assume you already know about my decision?" Eliza nodded, sneaking a glance at Alexander. He smiled, her heart bursting with affection at the sight. Philip laughed. "Have at it, you children."

Eliza didn't understand, but Alexander definitely did. He rushed forward and grabbed her hands, holding them up to their chests. Then, he kissed her. Eliza had been kissed by him before, sure, but this was in front of her _father_! She squealed, for the second time that night, and slowly relaxed into the feeling of his lips on hers, closing and opening only to gasp for a short breath. Their hands eventually moved to lay around each other's neck and hips, the sweet embrace ended only by a cough from Philip. They pulled away, blushing madly, but buzzing with affection and love in both their guts.

 

Eliza opened her eyes again when a knock sounded, pounding through the house. She frowned. _Can't an old women like me have any peace around here?_

The nurse rushed to the door - a different one than before, her shoes seemed to be leather instead of cloth - and opened it, hushed voices talking for a few moments before the door was shut and life in the old house resumed as normal. Eliza opened her mouth to call for them and ask what had happened, but decided against it. She wanted to be alone with her memories.

Eyes closing yet again, she remembered the time she wrote General Washington about sending Alexander home.

 

_Dear General Washington,_

_This letter is to inform you that I, Elizabeth Schuyler, happily wedded wife of Alexander Hamilton, am in need of my husband. I know what you're doing for the war is important - I fully support the colonies in their fight for freedom - but, circumstances have made it necessary for Alexander to come home as soon as possible. I'd rather not disclose what has happened, but I hope you can trust that it is imperative enough to send home one of your most important men. Perhaps you could enlist the assistance of the Marquis De Lafayette? Alexander talks about him all the time, and I believe he introduced himself to my sister, Angelica, at the winter's ball where me and Alexander met._

_Elizabeth Schuyler_

She finished the letter with her flowery signature, folding it closed after the ink had dried sufficiently. She slipped the letter into an envelope, balancing herself against the desk to stand. She planned to tell Alexander about the baby if he was sent home, and if not? A letter would do, but she would much rather tell him herself. She shuffled along the hardwood, through the house until she reached the front door, and waved down a small boy running down the street. He stopped running, fixing her with a funny look, and she smiled her best _Dealing With Children_ smile, explaining to the boy what she needed. "I am a young lady in need of assistance. As you can see, I am finding it difficult to navigate my way around town with this baby. Be a dear and deliver this to the post master's office as soon as possible?"

He nodded and took the letter, Eliza waving as he ran away. She smiled, imagining her own child running around on the lawn, sitting high up on Alexander's shoulders, coming home from school with the highest marks. It made her happy, and relaxed the feeling of anxiety coiling in her chest over the letter.

Alexander never did tell her the real reason why he was sent home, but she would learn later from an old friend that he engaged in dueling - only as a second - and General Washington deemed that enough of a reason to send him home. Eliza thought it a bit silly - what happened to the men actually engaged in the act of dueling? They must've had something terrible happen to them. She tried not to dwell on it, the idea of the small, outgoing John Laurens being punished made her heart fall.

She shook her head around, clearing her thoughts, and walked back in the house.

 

Thankfully, nothing interrupted Eliza this time so she was free to continue.

 

She sat patiently on her front step two weeks later, waiting for Alexander to come back. General Washington had submitted to her request quickly, sending Alexander home as soon as possible. She was astonished that her simple letter convinced the general himself to send home her husband. Again, she would learn later on why he was also sent home - that silly duel.

The sound of boots on concrete stepping stones alterted her to someone coming up the front walk, none other than her darling Alexander himself. His hair was, like always, in the simple ponytail, bags under his eyes deeper than when he'd left for the war. She smiled widely at him, and he soon met her face, smiling, too, before noticing the bump in her stomach. His jaw dropped and his eyes widened. "Betsey?"

"Alexander." She said softly. " _Oh_ , Alexander." She said again, tears leaking from her eyes. He swept forward to meet her, hugging her gently, almost reluctantly. Eliza noticed, pulling away. "What's wrong?"

A pause, and he looked down at her stomach. "We have a baby?" He said, sounding shocked.

Eliza nodded, and Alexander reached up to swipe away her tears. "We do." She said, smiling. Alexander was still frozen in front of her, staring at her protruding belly. Eliza noticed. "Alexander, are you quite alright?"

He looked into her eyes and the light there was something Eliza would never forget, not even today. "Why, Betsey, of _course_ I am! We have a... a - a _child_ , for Christ's sake! Oh, my _God_ , darling, I am _more_ than alright!" He said joyously, rushing forward to embrace Eliza happily now. He cupped her face between his hands and connected their lips, her eyes shooting open in surprise. She _hmmed_ and wrapped her hands around his neck, tugging gently at his ponytail.

After a moment she broke away, Alexander whining, but she shushed him. "What shall we name him?" She asked.

He looked into her eyes and said with the most confidence she'd ever seen: " _Philip_."

 

Eliza opened her eyes and noticed she had been crying throughout that memory, tear stains on her pillow. Baby Philip was a welcome addition to their house, growing fast and learning fast, too. He was just like his father. Another memory rudely uprooted itself from the back of her mind, but she pushed it away quickly. That would come later.

 

She was sitting at the piano with Philip, his tiny hands flowing gently across the keys. They would practice the same line over and over until he got it right - inevitably he would change it the next time, pointedly hitting the wrong key and making Eliza laugh.

Suddenly, the front door opened, Alexander rushing in through a flurry of summer winds. Eliza stood to greet him at the door, noticing his disheveled appearance. His hair was hanging out of it's traditional ponytail, half-in and half-out, bags under his eyes darking than mourning clothes. His jacket was wrinkled, looking like someone had grabbed him by the front of his coat and lifted him up off his feet. Eliza spoke calmly. "How was work?"

Alexander grunted, slipping his jacket off and hastily hanging it on the hook by the door. It slipped and Eliza caught it fast enough, sighing as Alexander rushed past her, taking the stairs two at a time. She hung the jacket before following him upstairs, just catching his wrist before he shut his office door. " _Alexander_." She said with as much force as she could manage. He groaned, closing the door and stepping into the hallway. Eliza crossed her arms. "What's wrong?"

It was a simple question, really, but Alexander gawked and crossed his arms as well. "What's wrong? Betsey, I have to write letters for Washington, construct my argument against Jefferson for our next cabinet meeting, get James Madison to even _talk_ to me - on that note, _where is he_? I think we all lost him at the office - and I've just been told by _Angelica_ , of all people - not _you_ , that she's coming across the ocean? Why didn't I know?"

Eliza was astonished. "I was going to tell you tonight over supper, dear. In fact, our son has a little surprise for you." Alexander protested weakly, but Eliza shushed him. "Alexander." She said again. "Come on, the food will get cold soon." He sighed and followed her down the stairs, Philip's eyes brightening when he saw Alexander.

"Daddy!" He cried, running to his dad's arms. Alexander stooped down and hugged him quickly, a murmured "Hey, buddy" into his son's curly hair before standing back up. Philip looked at Eliza and she winked at him before facing Alexander.

"Your son is, as you know, nine years old today - and he has a surprise for you. Philip?" She prompted.

Philip smiled and looked up at his dad while Eliza began beatboxing. "Daddy, daddy, look - my name is Philip. I am a poet - I wrote this poem just to show it. And I... just turned nine. You can write rhymes but you can't write mine."

"What!" Alexander said, smiling. He looked at Eliza and gave her two thumbs up.

"I practice French and play piano with my mother, I have a sister but I want a little brother - my daddy's tryna' start America's bank - un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq!" Philip finished, jumping up and down and waving his arms around.

"Bravo!" Alexander cried, hugging his son again, scooping him into his arms. Eliza smiled, so proud of her son. Alexander whispered to Eliza as they sat to eat supper, "Hey, our kid is pretty great." He said with his signature smile.

Eliza couldn't help but think that maybe he would've noticed at nine years old, but she brushed it off. "Pass the pasta, will you Philip? It's Thomas Jefferson's recipe."

Alexander gagged and grabbed his napkin, holding it to his mouth. " _Jefferson_?!"

 

Eliza laughed, ending the memory there. She'd finally convinced him to try it later that week, and he sadly admitted that it was pretty good. Something from France, if Eliza remembered correctly. It made her smile.

The next memory made Eliza stiffen with remembrance, but she brushed it off, reminding herself, _it was Alexander's fault, it was Alexander's fault, it was Alexander's fault, it was..._

A pamphlet was slipped inside of the daily newspaper that had been sitting on the dining room table. Alexander had rushed off somewhere early that morning, and Eliza had waved him off as he walked off down the street, slipping back into bed when he was gone. The pamphlet was relatively small, and she hadn't looked at the front of it yet. She flipped it over.

**_The Reynolds Pamphlet_ **

Reynolds? She remembered reading something about a James Reynolds, but she couldn't imagine what other trouble he could've got himself into. She opened it, skimming throught the sentences, trying to see if there was anything of importance in this silly book. She paled when her eyes caught a name. _Alexander_. She flipped back to the beginning and read it more closely this time, heartbeat increasing with every word.

**_The charge against me is a connection with one James Reynolds, for purposes of improper speculation. My real crime is an amorous connection with his wife for a considerable time with his knowing consent._ **

The words seemed to burn themselves into her skull, a headache growing in the back of her mind. She couldn't believe it. _Her Alexander?_

_The Alexander that had kissed her goodbye this morning, promising to eat the lunch she had packed for him?_

_The Alexander that tucked their children into bed every night?_

_The Alexander that had taken her on their bed, couch, floor, kitchen table - well, you get the point._

Eliza was torn apart, reading about the meetings and what they did to each other, how James Reynolds knew, and yet he continued. She knew it wasn't Maria's fault - that was evident enough in the letters she wrote to Alexander. No, it was _all_ Alexander's fault. _He_ accepted her into their bed, _he_ paid to continue seeing her, _he_ did _everything_. Eliza suddenly threw the pamphlet down like a hot coal, cradling her hands against her chest and staring at the offending object like it had actually burned her.

A pair of feet clambered down the staircase, and Eliza hastily shoved the pamphlet back inside the newspaper, but it was too late. Her eldest son paused at the foot of the stairs, raising one eyebrow. "Mom?" Philip asked. "What's in the paper?"

"N-nothing, Philip. It's really nothing. There's some fruit in a basket in the kitchen if you want some, you know." Eliza said, trying to redirect the topic away from the pamphlet. Philip walked slowly into the kitchen, coming out a second later with an apple. He stared at her as he walked back up the stairs, one last glance before heading down the hallway to his room. Eliza breathed a sigh of relief, sinking into a chair at the kitchen table.

She busied herself that day with mundane tasks - feeding the stray dogs, helping Philip comb his hair after his bath, cleaning spilled ink off of Alex's desk - she wondered briefly if he had had Maria here, and she sprung back from the desk, dropping her towels into a waste basket by the office door, ignoring the tears in her eyes.

Philip asked her every hour if she was okay, and every time: " _Yes_ , dear, now do your homework." By the time Alexander got home, Eliza was beginning to feel a bit restless. She didn't like lying to Philip, but he didn't need to be knowing about his father's sex life with other women.

"Betsey?" Alexander called when he arrived home, 9:00PM sharp. Earlier than usual, Eliza noted, as she stood to greet him, then sat down again. If there was anything Alexander hated most, it was the silent treatment. "Betse-" He called again, stopping when he saw Eliza in the front parlor - she was reading. His face dropped. "Why didn't you greet me as you usually do, dear?" He asked sadly.

Eliza looked up at him, his eyes knowing the answer already. She just raised her eyebrows and collected her book, leaving Alexander alone. He sighed, laying his coat across a chair, smiling when Philip bounded down the stairs. "Philip." Alexander said as he hugged his son. He no longer needed to stoop down to hug him. "How was your day?"

"Eh." Philip said. "Mom's upset about somethin' but she won't tell me." He looked into his dad's eyes and squinted. "Do _you_ know why mom's upset?" He questioned.

Alexander sighed. Philip was too smart. "I have a... hunch, you could say." He said carefully. Philip moaned in frustration before stomping out of the room, the stairs creaking with every step. His bedroom door slammed shut a second later, and Alexander drooped. He heard Eliza in the kitchen, cutting vegetables for supper, and he decided to see what she was doing. "Betsey?" He asked quietly, stepping into the kitchen. "Can we talk?"

"Do you really want to talk about it while I have a knife in my hand?" They both knew what it was, sadly.

"Maybe I don't." He said. "But I would like to talk later if you'll allow it."

Eliza hmphed, and continued her work. Alexander slowly walked out of the kitchen, running into a scene he would never forget. Philip was downstairs again, flipping through the pamphlet. Alexander rushed forward - Eliza peeked out from the kitchen - trying to grab the pamphlet away, but Philip turned and ran up the stairs, locking his bedroom door.

A moment later, they heard quiet crying coming from upstairs.

 

Eliza sat up in bed suddenly, feeling dizzy and lightheaded. The image of their house flicked away from her memory and she cursed quietly. She could hear one of the nurses downstairs humming something, and she smelled pork of some kind being roasted.

A moment later, a nurse came into her room. A glance at the clock confirmed it - it was time for dinner. Easily the hardest part of her day, it required someone to feed her, and it was nothing short of embarrassing.

"Have you had a good day?" The nurse asked. There was no emotion behind her voice, as if she was obligated to say it and start a conversation.

"Yes." Eliza replied curtly. "I have hands, you know. I can feed myself." She flexed her fingers to show the nurse.

"You won't stay awake." The nurse responded, sighing. "We've been over this, ma'am."

Eliza grunted, chewing on her pork angrily. She wanted to continue her daydreaming. The nurse _tsked_ when she saw that Eliza hadn't drank her tea like she was supposed to. Eliza shrugged.

"We'll have a talk later about this." She said, holding the cup up to Eliza's face before walking out of the room, kicking the door closed with her foot. The portrait was still crooked.

 

Eliza was sitting in a seat at a small restaurant downtown. She had ordered a sweet drink, and a small pastry covered in cinnamon. It had been a good day, and Alexander's asking to be allowed back in her bed had been less than usual. She planned on letting him back tonight, maybe having a drink or two and finally discussing what had happened. They hadn't ever talked about the Reynolds affair like he had wanted to, maybe she would indulge him. Just maybe.

A man rushed into the restaurant suddenly, looking around frantically until his eyes landed on Eliza. She startled as he walked to her, breathing heavily. "Ma'am, are you-" he looked at his hand, "-Elizabeth Hamilton?"

"Why, yes, I am. Is there something you need?" She asked sweetly. A slight drawl hinted her voice and she cringed internally - it must be from all the dinner parties that silly Thomas Jefferson invited them to. Damnit.

"It's, uh - I'll explain on the way there." He said hastily, fiddling with his hands behind his back.

Eliza tensed. "What is it?" She asked, using her most commanding voice.

The man sighed. "Philip was in a duel-"

She missed the rest of his sentence. The words _Philip_ and _duel_ struck her harshly, and her brain couldn't put them in the same sentence. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed, looking at the man. "Take me to him."

He held out his hand for her to take, and she stood, following him out of the building. The doctor's office was close by, thankfully, and as soon as she stepped in she lost it - a scream echoing from upstairs that was clearly Philip. She abandoned the man to run up the stairs, nearly tripping on her skirts, desperately trying to locate the room. She saw Alexander's briefcase outside one of them, running to open the door, and she prayed that she wasn't too late, that her baby wasn't gone-

" _Philip_ -" She breathed as she took in the scene before her. Alexander, kneeled beside his bed, holding his hand. Philip, writhing on the bed in pain. His hair was sticky with sweat, tangled and matted against his face. Alexander's frame was tense, and he loosened when he saw Eliza.

"Bets-" He began, but stopped when Eliza rushed forward, grabbing Philip's other hand. She cried out, then looked to Alexander. He looked like a deer in headlights.

" _Who did this?_ " She sobbed. When Alexander didn't respond, she leaned in very close to him. " _Alexander, did you know?!_ " She cried to his face. He remained silent as Eliza pursed her lips tightly, looking back to Philip. Alexander tensed again when Philip sagged to the bed, crying half-heartedly to his parents. There were few discernible words, sorry the only word cleat enough to distinguish.

Eventually, he was calmed down enough to count with Eliza in French. They were counting down when Philip stopped and smiled, eyes pausing in motion. Eliza gasped, hurling herself onto Philip, feeling for a pulse in his chest. She pulled back a second later, before sobbing and crashing down again, her head buried in Philip's stomach. Alexander tried to reach for her hand, but she jerked it away. He sat stoically while Eliza wept over their son.

 

She had been crying again, Eliza realized as she awoke from her thoughts. It was no surprise. This was by far the hardest memory to go through - the affect of Philip's death would scar her children, specifically Angelica, and Alexander would never smile the same way again. Never again would Eliza be greeted with his sharp smile, bright eyes, and gentle, albeit twitchy, hands. He would settle down, move the family uptown, and walk alone around town, ashamed of what he'd done.

 

They faced their garden in the backyard, both wearing black. Alexander was spending increasing time in the garden every day, Eliza noticed. Perhaps to distract himself fom the death of Philip. There were roses growing in a row, red and vibrant, and Eliza was struck with a strong wave of emotion. She pinched her eyes shut as she tried to wade her way through the wave, coming out and opening her eyes after a moment. Alexander was looking at her, she realized, and she looked back at the flowers.

 _Forgiveness_ , she thought. _Eliza, can you even imagine sleeping in the same bed as him ever again?_

Eliza took Alexander's hand. He startled and looked at her, worried, but she stayed looking at the flowers. He relaxed and squeezed her hand, rubbing his thumb over the spot where the ring used to be. She'd been careless and fired up one day and threw the ring into a grate in the midst of an argument with Alexander. He'd started at her, shocked, before walking away. She'd felt terrible the rest of the week.

She heard Alexander take a breath and she looked at him pointedly. He closed his mouth and gave her a small smile, turning around to look back at the house. She turned with him, only letting go of his hand for a moment, and suddenly the feeling of his hand on hers was too much. She let go, falling to her knees, and let out a broken sob. Spit choked her and she breathed deeply, Alexander's hand rubbing soothing circles on her back. Eventually she calmed down and stood up, hugging Alexander before running into the house.

He didn't come in after her. When he did come in, he would find his side of the bed made, a note written for him sitting on his pillow. He sat down, bed creaking, and carefully opened it.

_Alexander,_

_The events of the past years have been tough to go through. The affair, Philip... everything, basically. And I'm upset with myself for pushing you away and making us go through this all by ourselves. I've realized that, yes, you made mistakes, but I've forgiven you as well. I just wasn't ready to admit that myself. I still love you, Alexander, don't doubt that for a second. But I'm ready to let you back in and be a part of this... "narrative" that is our lives._

_You're invited back to bed tonight as well._

_Keep those dirty thoughts out of your head._

_Eliza_

He smiled sweetly - Eliza knew him so well - folding the letter back up and tucking it under his pillow. He looked out the window, seeing it was late, and heard soft footsteps coming down the hallway. Eliza opened the door a moment later, smiling when she saw Alexander. He stood, and they both prepared for bed. Eliza, at first, was shy of stripping in front of him, considering they hadn't seen each other like this in years, but nonetheless, she slipped into bed with him. They lay silent, side by side, for a few minutes before Eliza turned to the side and pulled Alexander closer, humming quietly.

He had the best sleep he'd had in years.

 

Eliza heaved, sitting up in bed. She tried to call out for a nurse, but couldn't make her throat push the words out. Thankfully, someone was outside her room at the moment, and opened the door, gasping when they saw Eliza. They rushed in, handing her a glass of water on her bedside table, and she dramk greedily before taking a deep breath.

The nurse looked shocked. "Are you alright, Eliza?" They gently took the cup from her and laid her back on the bed.

"I'm fine." Eliza rasped before breaking into a fit of coughing.

The nurse grimaced. "I'm calling the doctor." She closed the door behind her and Eliza could hear her shoes down the stairs. Eliza groaned. She hated being looked over 24/7, but Angelica had insisted upon it before she died. _God_ , sometimes sisters did _too_ much.

 

The bed creaked and Eliza opened her eyes. There was an empty spot beside her and she sat up, seeing Alexander closing their bedroom door behind him. She rolled her eyes, standing up and grabbing a robe before patting down the hallway to his office. She knocked and opened his door, his eyes widening when he saw her. He hastily scrambled to cover up whatever he was writing, giving up when he saw Eliza's confused face.

Eliza laughed. "Alexander, come back to sleep." She whispered, walking to take one of his hands.

He stammered, "I have an early meeting out of town." He protested weakly.

Eliza looked up. The curtains were drawn shut but she could see well enough. "It's still dark outside." She whined.

"I know." He said, almost to himself more then her. "I just need to write something down-"

"Why do you write like you're running out of time?" Alexander shushed her, but she continued. "Come back to bed, that would be enough."

"I'll be back before you know I'm gone-"

" _Come back to sleep-_ " Eliza threatened quietly.

A pause. "This meeting's at dawn." He said sadly.

Eliza huffed, letting go of his hand and holding her robe closer to herself. "Well, _I'm_ going back to sleep." She turned to stalk out of the room before Alexander grabbed her hand once more.

"Hey." He said softly. Alexander thought for a second before speaking. "Best of wives and best of women."

Eliza smiled, pulling away from him. He resumed his writing, more fervently this time, and she watched for a moment before leaving the room. The bed was still warm when she got back to their room, but his side was cold. She grabbed his pillow - it smelled like him - and cuddled it as though it were her husband. She fell asleep right as the front door opened and closed.

She was awoken by a loud knocking an hour or so later. It startled her, wondering, _Who in God's name is at our door at this hour?_ The knocking didn't cease, and before long she slipped out of bed and grabbed her robe again, stalking into the hallway.

"I'll be there in a minute!" Eliza yelled. When she reached the door and opened it, there was a small boy in front of her. It was the same boy who delievered her letter to Washington so many years before. He was a man now, but she knew immediantly who it was. "Yes?" She asked tiredly.

"It's Mr. Hamilton, ma'am. He got in a nasty duel with Aaron Burr-"

 _Duelduelduelduelduelduel_... the word echoed in her mind and she fell to her knees, memories of Philip flooding from the back of her mind vividly. The boy took a step back before asking her if she was okay. When she gave no response, he waited a moment before walking back to her. She cried while the boy helped her up and guided her to the doctor's office down the street.

As soon as she was inside, she heard her Alexander in the room directly to her right. She ran in, Angelica already there, and gasped before running to hold his other hand. Eliza sobbed quietly, shoving her head against his leg. She saw a wound on his ribcage, and assumed that that was where Burr shot him.

She didn't realize that Alexander was trying to talk to her. "Hey, _hey_ \- _Betsey_!" He yelled as loudly as he could in his state, smiling when she looked up. He whimpered. "Don't cry, Betsey, _please_ , _oh_ , _please_ , don't." Eliza sniffled before composing herself, trying her best to not cry. "Good."

There were no words spoken during the rest of the night, occasionally Alexander would mumble something that Eliza didn't catch, but for the first time in Eliza's life, he was quiet. She would've laughed under different circumstances. She didn't remember exactly what happened when he eventually passed away in the early morning hours, but she refused to leave the room and eventually had to be dragged home by Angelica. The kids were all at home, thankfully, and they were eating fruit from the cupboards.

 

Angelica helped her around the house for awhile, mainly with the kids, but then she passed away and Eliza was... _alone_. Alone in her bed on the second floor of their house, breaking into fits of coughing and sickness every day. Alone with no one who really loved her.

This time when Eliza opened her eyes, she finally let herself cry without shame, one of the nurses rubbing her back as she heaved, snot spilling from her nose. When she was calmed, she realized it was nighttime. The nurse left her, snuffing her candles before closing the door softly.

Eliza lay in bed for a few moments before sleep took over, washing like a wave.

 

She was on a stage in front of a crowd of people, their eyes shining wet with tears. A choir was singing behind her, and eventually she turned around only to see a man there. He smiled and held her hands, and soon she realized she was singing, too! Beautiful words poured from her mouth as she was walked to the very front of the stage, the man guiding her there. The audience waited in silence, and she took a gasping breath when she saw all their faces. There were young, old, female, male, black, white... everyone you could imagine was here. The lights dimmed and she was sheathed in darkness again.

When lights came up, she was beside Alexander. He smiled at her and gestured to their surroundings. They were in a park, and she could see Peggy and some big, burly man talking. John Laurens was off to the side, smiling at her and Alexander. Aaron Burr was siting cross-legged on the ground with Thomas Jefferson, and they looked up suddenly, seeing Eliza. Jefferson stood and called everyone in the park to where they were. Angelica and Peggy rushed forward first, capturing her in a fierce hug. John Laurens was next, he didn't hug her, but smiled widely. A blur of names and faces later, and finally she focused on Alexander.

His hair was back in a ponytail, a quill stuck in it, and wearing a coat neat and pressed with the sleeves rolled up. And his smile,  _oh_ , his smile. The one that could cut paper neatly and was so sweet and tangy. It made Eliza's heart jump, and she felt...

 _Complete_.

**Author's Note:**

> this took me a week to write holy fazoli
> 
> the undertale soundtrack was listened to heavily while writing this
> 
> comments are great and lovely i love them please comment thanks
> 
> thanks for reading!!!


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